Me and Emmit Rhodes, we’re on the same page.
Last weekend, I went to a sort of high school reunion. Usually, you go to those kind of things with a business card and stories of relative success and happiness. At bare minimum, you go with as much of a veneer of stability and fulfillment as you can; smiling steadily as you say, time and time again “no, still no job, still no girl. back at home, actually.” Thank god being unemployed is all the rage these days, or the whole thing would be a colonoscopy performed on the jumbo tron. Emitt Rhodes is the same way. He’s one guy, probably as good as bricking chords as McCartney, but stuck in the midwest [ok, apparently, he was from LA, but bear with me], and totally alone. So he fakes it; playing every instrument on his first, amazing, self titled album (you might know “Lullaby,” a tangled wire, barely lasting a minute from the Royal Tenenbaums Soundtrack). And he plays it like he sees the sun every day, which he probably didn’t. But he can’t let it all slide; listen to the words sung over these confident chords and music. He’s falling. Pretty fast, too.
(and, as i got these tracks straight from another blog, I’ve gotta give credit to Dr. Mooney, once again)
Hey New York: Elvis Perkins is playing tomorrow night with Ra Ra Riot (or, as i’ve dubbed them, “Ho Ho Hum [plus cello!]”) at Housingworks, which is one of the most hospitable, beautiful places to see a show in the city. Apparently it’s the release party for an indie rock coloring book, if that changes things at all.